This fucking blue notebook
It has trapped
All that I should have said
It has entrapped
Me from all that I could have been
With its sickly binding
Bent like my spine
Spent like my wine

This notebook, it withholds so many words left unsaid
Within I’ve spewed forth my love
Put my lowest lows to bed
All these conversations, only ever written of

Oh no, it’s happening again
Waisting my time on this paper
Count me out, the lout
I’ve already proved, I’d just rape
Her of her right to a happy life
And my right to a beautiful wife
We’ve already proved, she’d just kill
My creativity in the most abrasively
Invasive mosaic of negativities

But I’ll go on in the real world
Time to close this tale of fantasy
Time to rebind this spine
This lonesome woeful spite
Of my love for you and me
Maybe when I wake up

I’ll cut these strings
Then I can be a real boy
Just like all of you
Talking through the day
Walking along my way
Not a care on display
With only these words to say: